


One Way Ticket ( I Am Never Coming Back)

by Aurealis



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hospitals, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, References to Drugs, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 21:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurealis/pseuds/Aurealis
Summary: For once in his life, Tony is happy, but his joy is overshadowed by Peter suffering. It has been a year and the boy is not getting better.





	One Way Ticket ( I Am Never Coming Back)

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling extremely depressed last night, nauseous and not like myself at all, and I wanted to write something really sad and painful to make me cry. This is the result. Not my best work, not a long shot and I won't even try to pretend otherwise since I seriously did not feel alright, mentally or physically last night. I- I seriously have no idea what that attack was. Could be the side-effect of dropping the dosage of my medication. I originally had a plan to only post this in my Tumbr but this grew too much, dialogue was added and yes, here it is.

There is no doubt that Tony becomes a stay at home dad after Baby Stark is born. She, yes, it’s a girl because Tony deserves a little princess to spoil, is born about a year after Pepper and Tony’s wedding and all are overjoyed.

 

But the immense relief at having a healthy, beautiful baby is overshadowed by Peter suffering the after-effects of the snap. Others have recovered well, but Peter remembered everything, still woke up screaming, got panic attacks sometimes with no kind of outside trigger. The boy was a wreck, his inner light spent. Last year of high school he failed completely, yes, he graduated but with scores so low there was no hope of attending MIT, let alone another university. Sure, a recommendation letter and a donation from Tony Stark might do the trick but the boy was practically in pieces. He spent weekends with less than reputable people, drinking, smoking, doing mild drugs. Ned he no longer saw, the boy had watched Peter break down over a year and had had enough. Tony knew they had had a fight but Peter refused to give the details and Ned only said Peter was allowed to contact him once he got his life back on the track. Before that, he wanted nothing to do with his best friend.

 

May was at the end of her rope. Peter was out of control and she had no way to get him back on the right track. The boy was out on the streets at nights and when she tried to talk to him, he merely screamed his head off and refused to open up.

 

One day she called Tony while he was at store with Baby, they had not yet had naming ceremony.

 

“You must take him, I can’t guarantee I won’t do something stupid if he stays here a day longer!”

 

“What?” Tony asked, stopping the cart at the vegetable section, his daughter’s big brown eyes following his movements. “May, did something happen?”

 

The woman snorts: “Nothing more than has been happening the whole summer. He came home at five am, I was just getting ready to leave for my shift and we- we got into a fight. He was throwing plates, Tony. Neighbors nearly called the police.”

 

This- this was not Peter, Tony felt like he had lost his boy for good. Something burns in his eyes. 

 

How much was the kid suffering?

 

So, Peter moved to the Tower, the penthouse to be exact. His room was still the same it had always been, walls full of blueprints, photos (God, the kid had not touched his camera in months), on the bed an Ironman plushy and numerous pillows. There was no more laughter, no movie nights, Peter was a shell of his old self. 

 

The naming ceremony is held a week later, May attends and Peter is civil with her. The baby is named Emma and Peter is in love with her, constantly playing and planting face and hair with kisses. Tony hoped it was a sign that Peter was feeling better.

 

He was wrong, two days later, Peter comes back to the Penthouse at two am, Tony has tried to keep a schedule for the kid but it was next to impossible unless he went out in IronMan suit and carried the boy home. He hears stumbling and frowns, then loud vomiting. Tony is out of bed in a second and finds Peter leaning on the wall, with vomit splashed down his front and on the carpet.

 

“Okay, kid,” he whispers and takes a hold of the boy’s elbow to support him. “It’s alright, you’re okay.”

 

He helps Peter to his bathroom and the boy collapses in front of the toilet seat. Tony rubs his back as Peter gags and hacks up what ever is in his stomach. 

 

“What did you drink, kid?” The man is scared at how neutral his voice is. He knows Peter is quickly developing an alcohol problem but he rarely came back at this state. He could recall Peter throwing up after a night out only once not including this time.

 

“Vodka,” The boy swallows heavily. “Some absinthe.”

 

“Did you take anything else?”

 

Peter is silent for a moment, his eyes are unfocused and Tony has to grip his vomit stained jaw in his hand to get their gazes meet.

 

“Peter, did you take something?”

 

“Yeah,” the voice is silent and the word nearly buried under another bout of vomiting. 

 

“What?”

 

“This guy had pills,” Peter leans his forehead on his hands, shaking with nausea. “I- he said they would get me high and good but I started to feel sick. I- I threw up in the lobby.”

 

The last sentence is whispered like an apology. But Tony has other concerns in his mind.

 

“Why did you not call me? Kid!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter cried. “I know I messed up, everything has gone to shit.”

 

It is the first breakdown Tony had witnessed; Peter had not cried at all since the snap. The boy had felt nothing, period. The time in the soul stone, unexisting had taken the humane aspects of his personality. 

 

“Tony- I- It’s not working. Nothing is right!”

 

The man made soft sounds of comfort and leaned the boy’s back against his chest. 

 

“It’s okay, Petey,” He kissed the soft hair, now garnished with cigarette smoke, and rocks them both back and forth.

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter sniffed, coughing a bit but bringing up nothing but saliva which his mentor wipes from the side of his mouth with a wet cloth. “I’m a screw up.”

 

“You are not a screw-up, Peter,” Tony said with no small amount of weight in his voice. “You are a good person who has gone through unimaginable trauma.”

 

“It’s not fair!” Peter cried and Tony did not shush him. He did not want Emma to wake up but he would take it over Peter burying his feelings for another year and suffering more. 

 

“I hate this! You are good, all others are good! Why am I the one still hurting! Why aren’t you hurting?”

 

“We all are hurting, Peter,” Tony kissed his temple and placed the cloth on the boy’s forehead, hoping to bring down his rising temperature. “But we are adults and you are a child. We have gone through much more than you and have more coping mechanisms.”

 

“That can’t be it!” The boy is turning hysteric. “I lost my parents and Ben and you say I have not been through much!”

 

“No, Peter, that is not what I said or meant. I meant we have more experience with this kind of stuff but don’t think we are not suffering.”

 

“You are not! Don’t try to tell me you are because you’re not! You can’t understand!”

 

Emma starts crying.

 

“You have a child, Tony! You have a child!”

 

“Calm down,” Tony kept his voice soft and calming as he restrained Peter’s arms to his sides. “Easy, calm your breathing.”

 

“I can’t do this anymore.”

 

The words are hushed, with no energy, dark and menacing. 

 

“Peter,” Tony starts and the boy gets up. His steps are long, steady and Tony hurries after him.

 

“Peter!” The boy does not look at him, his eyes fixed forward. “Talk to me, buddy. We can fix this.”

 

They walk to the living room and Tony realizes where Peter is headed: the balcony.

 

Peter starts running.

 

“FRIDAY, lock all door and windows!”

 

The command is initiated just as Peter grabs the handle. The door does not bulge and the boy cries out in frustration, slamming his body against the glass. Tony stays back, hands out in a placating gesture.

 

“Kid, it’s no use, just walk to me and tell me how I can help.”

 

“You can’t help!” The boy cries and pulls his hair: there is a mad look in his eyes. 

 

Tony takes a chance, takes a step closer and Peter bolts away like a frightened animal. His reasoning is gone, all that is left is primal instinct to accomplish a mission.

 

In his eyes, predators are his mentor and life.

 

Tony runs after as Peter leaps over the kitchen counter and opens cabinet where they keep all the knives. Big, sharp tools and Tony’s eyes widen.

 

“Peter, no!”

 

By some miracle, he makes it in time and grabs a tight hold of the boy’s hand, denying Peter a chance to slice open his wrists.

 

“Get off me!”

 

Peter screams like Tony is about to eat him. The man wrestles the boy to the ground, straddles his waist and forces his slim arms over his head. He slams Peter’s hand to the ground several times to break the manic hold he has on the butcher knife, all the while Peter screams half-words and obscenities. He does not know how conscious the boy is, what part is the drugs and what is his little boy, his brilliant mentee.

 

“Gotcha,” Tony throws the knife as far away as he can. Peter struggles to reach it but Tony grabs the boy around the waist and forces his full body weight on him.

 

“I want to die!” The boy shouts and Tony freezes in place. “I want to die!”

 

He knew it. It was not a surprise but hearing it from Peter’s mouth, the tone holding nothing but pure pain. The tears pour down Peter’s cheeks and Tony realizes he too is sobbing.

 

They have reached the point of no return.

 

Peter’s screams alert Pepper, the boy cries nothing but the same sentence over and over again.

 

“Peter,” The woman kneels down, against Tony’s wordless messages but at least she refuses the instinct to touch Peter. “We are going to get you help, just hang on a little while longer.”

 

Tony, still struggling to keep the boy in place, away from anything that might be used to hurt himself, eyes his wife look full of determination and grim resolution: “Call an ambulance, we can’t keep him home anymore.”

 

***

 

EMS receive a word of a suicidal teen and by protocol, hurry to the scene. Peter is tranquilized and he is finally sleeping, buried under blankets and strapped to a stretcher. Vomit covered shirt is cut off him and lies in a heap on the kitchen floor. Tony changes into normal clothes, grabs his phone and wallet and accompanies the kid on the short trip in the hospital. There he is admitted to the ER, given medicine to counteract the effects of the drugs and oxygen through nasal tubes. 

 

The boy is asleep for fifteen hours, with Tony holding his hand through it and praying. He does not believe in Gods but he is ready to try anything if it means Peter gets even the slightest chance at mental peace.

 

Peter spends three days in suicide watch, psychiatrists coming in and out of his room. A social worker is called in and Tony makes a plan with May and the head of the ward. 

 

They break it to Peter a night before he is allowed to leave.

 

“It is a very renowned institution,” May explains calmly, her thumb stroking Peter’s knuckles. “Tony and I visited it today, it’s a very beautiful place and the staff is nice.”

 

Peter nods, gaze down on the covers.

 

“You have a big room and can decorate it however you want,” Tony offers. “Besides, it’s in the city, familiar neighborhood.”

 

“I don’t want it,” Peter says softly. Tony frowns but relents: “Okay, you want to go somewhere else? That can be arranged but we thought-“

 

“No, I meant I don’t want it. Not here or anywhere else.”

 

“Peter,” May squeezes the boy’s hand.

 

“I can’t get better. Pay for someone else’s stay, they deserve it more than me.”

 

Tony has to grit his teeth to keep his temper in check.

 

“Why would you deserve help any less than others?”

 

Peter had no reasons to offer, only shrugs. The psychiatrist gets through the boy a bit more, telling stories about other teens who suffered because of the Snap. Apparently, the phenomenon had been so traumatizing it had needed its own classification in the DMS scale.

 

Next day, Tony comes to the hospital with a bag of Peter’s clothes and other belongings. He and May check him out and make the short drive to the mental institution for teenagers and young adults. Peter follows them like a misbehaved puppy, head low and unspeaking. The head of the institute meets them at the gate and gives Peter a tour of all the facilities. They have a pool, a gym, large community room, hall with musical instruments and various art supplies.

 

“Mr Stark told us you have a gift for photography.”

 

Peter shrugs and Tony can’t help but pull the kid to his side, hand ruffling his hair fondly.

 

Last, they arrive to Peter’s room which is much gloomier and smaller than Tony remembered. The boy’s mind retreats to the back of his head and it is impossible to get Peter to react as he and May say their goodbyes. Tony cradle’s the kid’s face in his hands, the thumbs stroke cheekbones over which eyes are vacant, with no emotion.

 

“Be a brave boy, okay?” Tony can’t help a tear from slipping down his cheek. “I love you, so much, don’t ever forget it.”

 

He gives a final kiss to Peter’s forehead, hopes to transmit strength through the simple gesture.

 

Tony and May get up, ready to exit the room.

 

“Bye,” Peter says, face turned towards his guardians.

 

May lets out a watery laugh.

 

“Bye, baby.”

 

They spend thirty minutes in the car, crying their hearts out, cursing the world, Thanos, themselves for the pain Peter is feeling.

 

They arrive at the Tower, open a bottle of scotch and get ridiculously drunk while FRIDAY shows them a playlist of Peter at his best, before the faithful day of April when the world shattered. Some of the clips were taken with a camcorder, others were from various cameras around the Tower and compound. There was Peter, baking cookies at Christmas and decorating them in Iron Man colors. Jumping on the bed while Tony told him off, he would break the springs. Practicing waltz with Pepper and laughing at his mistakes. Telling what he was thankful for at Thanksgiving celebrations. Playing video games with Rhodey. 

 

Hours after hours of beautiful memories and it was only during this moment that they both realized how much Peter had regressed.

 

At one point, Pepper and Emma join them, little girl’s eyes huge as she watches her brother hug her father in his sleep.

 

“Gaauubaaba,” She reaches her hand towards the screen and turns to look at her father. Tony nods with a sad smile, eyes glistening and voice slurred.

 

“Yes, sweetie, that’s Petey.”

 

She shrieks in delight and sucks on her closed fist.

 

Peter performs flawless cartwheels and back flips in the gym, with Tony’s watchful eyes following him, making sure he does not hurt himself.

 

“Petey will get better.”

 

Another camcorder video, Peter is smiling, wind blowing in his hair and waves of the ocean crashing behind him. 

 

He couldn’t wait to see that smile again.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are equally appreciated!


End file.
